Wynter's Bite | Historical Paranormal Romance: Vampires (Scandals With Bite Book 5)

by Brooklyn Ann

“I’m not drunk,” Bethany snapped, humiliated as well as afraid.

  “Please,” Justus said. “She is ill. I need to find a doctor to help her. Leave us be and we will leave your lord’s territory.”

  The vampire stepped closer. “Lucky for you, I have no lord. I’m a rogue, same as you.” His nostrils flared and he frowned. “She doesn’t smell of illness. Not of drink, either.”

  Justus sighed. “I know.”

  The vampire considered them in silence for a few moments before he sighed. “Well, her health won’t be improved lingering out in the open where the Somerset vampires can pounce. Come with me. There’s a no-man’s land at the coast about a mile. I have a shelter where she can rest and we can get a better look at her.”

  “Thank you,” Justus said gratefully. He then looked down and stared so hard into Bethany’s eyes that she started to take a step back, but froze, trapped in his gaze. “Sleep,” he said softly.

  She fell into his arms, darkness, pain and fragmented nightmares taunting her.

  When she awoke, she lay in Justus’s lap in a cave that smelled of saltwater. The other rogue vampire sat beside them, next to a crackling fire, doing something with his shoulder.

  “Sleeping Beauty awakens,” he said and extended his hand. “I’m Rhys Berwyn, formally of Manchester until my lord exiled me. Your husband has been telling me of your escape from the lunatic asylum.”

  Bethany blinked in surprise. Justus had remained close-mouthed to everyone else regarding where she came from. She gave him a cautious nod and cringed when her neck throbbed.

  “And I presume they drugged you there?” he inquired and flinched as he dug into his upper arm with what looked like a pair of pliers.

  She frowned at his strange action, but didn’t pry. “Yes. Doctor Keene had a special tonic that tasted horrid and made me dizzy. I hated it.”

  “But you want it,” he said flatly.

  Revulsion prickled her arms. “No, I don’t!” And yet she remembered her dreams of Morningside, and her eagerness for the medicine. Doubt clouded her head, increasing her anxiety.

  “You’re opium-sick, Lady de Wynter,” Rhys said. “I’ve seen plenty of it in my mortal days when I was a sailor on a trading expedition into the Orient, and you display all the signs: the shaking, sweating, bursts of temper, aches and complaints. You may not have been fond of the Doctor’s tonic, which likely contained laudanum, but your body became accustomed to it and demands more.” He dug the pliers deeper and pulled out a leaden ball with a groan of pain.

  Bethany gaped at him. “You were shot?”

  “Such is the fate of highwaymen. Fortunately, I heal faster than most.” He dropped the lead ball on the floor and withdrew a little brown bottle from his pocket. After taking a drink, he passed it to her. “Take a small sip, and your suffering will calm. You need to be weaned from the drug.”

  She opened her mouth to refuse, but her hand reached for the bottle of its own volition and brought it to her mouth. The oh so familiar bitterness made her shudder even as an aching nostalgia and blinding relief washed over her. She passed Rhys the bottle, wanting it as far away from her as possible, but he handed it to Justus.

  “I do not understand how this is possible,” Bethany said. Was it her imagination, or did the ache in her bones seem less severe? “I wasn’t drugged every day. Besides, I’m certain I would have suffered from the addiction sooner. It’s been seven nights since Justus rescued me from Morningside.” Doubt imbued her own words, since she had experienced tremors, aches and mild stomach upset ever since they left.

  Rhys shrugged. “How often were you drugged when you were in that place?”

  “About once a week. Sometimes more if the doctor decided I was ‘overstimulated,’ as he called it.” Foul memories of being denied the simplest comforts in life flashed before her eyes.

  “Once a week is enough to do it,” Rhys said. “Your body is on a clock. That’s why you felt fine for the last few nights. Then, when you didn’t receive the good doctor’s tonic as scheduled, your body and mind made the disruption known.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t really felt exactly right, but still, those nights had been nothing close to the torment she’d endured this evening. Even more disturbing was that the truth of Rhys’s words became more apparent by the moment. The laudanum was making her feel better, giving her mind and body the calm that Doctor Keene always insisted upon. And devil take her, she wanted more.

  Justus stroked her hair. “God, what I’d do to go back and put my fist through that bloody doctor’s teeth. Locking you up and depriving you of books wasn’t enough for him. He had to force opium sickness upon you too.”

  She nodded in grim agreement. “I’d like to put that blunderbuss to use.” As the implications of her malady sank in, worry pulsed through her veins as she glanced back at Rhys. “Is it permanent?”

  The rogue vampire shook his head. “No, and your escape from the asylum was the first and most important step for the cure. I’ve given your husband the rest of my laudanum, but you had best try not to ask for it for a few days. Go as long as you can without it, and soon enough, your body will forget about it if given the chance.”

  Justus looked down at Bethany with pained eyes, though he spoke to Rhys. “Why couldn’t my blood cure her?”

  Rhys shrugged, then winced as the movement irritated his wounded shoulder. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem to do very much for addictions. I met a vampire who was a drunkard in his mortal days and fed his thirst by feeding off other drunkards. I knew another who smoked opium.”

  The subject was much too depressing for Bethany. She changed the subject. “What made you decide to be a highwayman?”

  “My mortal descendants are in danger of losing the family farm,” Rhys said. “So I rob from the aristocracy and give it to my poor family so they can pay the outrageous mortgage that my great grand-nephew took out on the property to support his wastrel lifestyle.”

  “Oh, how terrible!” Bethany said, then realized she could be misconstrued. “About your family, that is. But how wonderful that you still look out for them. You’re like Robin Hood.”

  Rhys laughed. “All I need is my Maid Marianne.”

  “I am certain you shall find her someday.” Bethany liked this vampire. He had an irascible charm, and a kind heart.

  “Lord, I hope not.” Rhys said with a look of mock horror. “Aside from women naturally being trouble, and I mean that in the kindest way possible, I have no desire to endanger myself nor anyone else with my situation in life. De Wynter here may not be an infamous criminal like I am, but he is a rogue all the same and you, my dear are a fugitive. I do not think I could bear the difficulties you both are enduring.”

  Bethany looked down at her lap. If it weren’t for her, Justus wouldn’t be a rogue.

  Justus tilted her chin up and kissed her. “I know this must sound ludicrous, but before I found Bethany, I was living only half a life. I enjoyed doing my duty for my lord and we were the best of friends, but something was missing. Even with the peril and hardships we face, the world has more color and I feel like I have a reason to live.”

  “It does sound ludicrous,” Rhys said. “All the same, I understand. But I have my family to think of.” His sober expression dissolved into a mirthful smile. “Besides, if I saddled myself to a woman, I could no longer steal kisses from the women I divest of jewels.”

  They all laughed, and Bethany relaxed against Justus, feeling more at ease than she had since their wedding night. She even managed to eat some bread and cheese from their bag.

  “Thank you for helping us,” Justus said as he built up the fire.

  “No thanks needed. It is past time I did a good deed, though it will do little to blot out my many sins.” Rhys tossed Justus a few coins. “You may stay here for as long as you like. I am off tomorrow night.”

  “To where?” Bethany and Justus both asked.

  “Blackpool. Quite the opposite of where you two are bound.”


  Justus’s eyes widened at the distance. “Your family farm is in Blackpool? What is the lord like?”

  “A heartless bastard.” Rhys’s upper lip curled in scorn. “He holds the loan on the farm.”

  “Good God!” Justus gaped at him. “And you said we were enduring difficulties!”

  Rhys nodded grimly. “I imagine he’ll catch me one of these days and take my head. I only hope my family is free of him by then.” He stretched and crossed the cave to a bedroll in the corner. “Anyway, it is nearly dawn and I need my rest if this blasted arm is to heal by nightfall.”

  As if his words held magic, Bethany’s lids drooped and she yawned.

  Justus laid down on their makeshift bed and she cuddled against him gratefully. As he stroked her hair, she peered at the fire and said a silent prayer for Rhys to save his family and avoid the Lord of Blackpool’s clutches, and for her and Justus to be welcomed in Cornwall. And most of all, she prayed her opium sickness would go away.

  Without Rhys’s intervention, who knew what would have happened?

  As sleep sucked her into its dark void, one final thought tinged her dreams with worry.

  What would the Lord of Cornwall do if he knew she was not only an escapee from a lunatic asylum, but also an opium addict?

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  When Justus awoke, he studied Bethany. She lay still and relaxed, sleeping deeper than she had in days. Even as relief flooded him at her lack of a tremor, self-recrimination rained upon him that he hadn’t realized the cause of her shivers. He’d assumed she’d either been cold, or was overwhelmed with the sensation of being out in the world again. It had not occurred to him that she’d suffer withdrawals from being drugged.

  The bottle of laudanum felt heavy in his pocket. He prayed that she wouldn’t ask for it too soon, for he didn’t know if he’d have the strength to refuse her after witnessing her suffering.

  Bethany’s eyes fluttered open and she favored him with a smile that made his heart ache. “Where is our gracious host?”

  “Rhys already departed for Blackpool.” Gratitude welled within for the rogue’s aid and generosity even as he worried about the highwayman. Once more he felt ashamed of his previous scorn for rogue vampires, thinking them all to be evil and violent. And though there were indeed plenty of rogues of that ilk, there had been others whose kindness had been instrumental in Justus’s and Bethany’s survival. He only hoped Rhys would find similar help. Justus knew what tangling with a Lord Vampire on their own territory entailed. Rhys would be lucky to survive. He shook off the concern and focused on his own situation.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, determined to focus on the present.

  “Much better.” She stretched, her delectable body grazing his before she twined her arms around his neck. “I haven’t slept this well in ages. I had the most wonderful dream that you and I were choosing chairs for our library.”

  Justus smiled at the enchanting mental picture. “There is nothing better than a dream that will come to pass.” Though even if the Lord of Cornwall agreed to make them citizens, their accommodations would be meager until Justus found profitable employment. Thankfully, once he Changed Bethany, they would have many years to save their coppers.

  Bethany hugged him tight. “I do not know what I’d do without your reassurance. How far did we travel?”

  “We’re in Devon.” Justus fought back the memory of carrying Bethany as she’d shivered and moaned in a delirious sleep. “We could be in Cornwall tonight, though we’d best hurry since Ridley’s third in command heard me blurt out our destination.”

  “Thank heavens,” Bethany said. “I pray the Lord Vampire takes us in. And if he doesn’t, that he will allow us to pass.”

  “The Lord of Rochester tells me that Deveril is eccentric, but soft-hearted.” He did his best to ease her worry.

  “Deveril?” Bethany’s brows rose. “The Lord Vampire of Cornwall is the Mad Earl of Deveril? My father ranted about his proxy vote on the Corn Laws and my mother was always trying to invite him to her parties in London when she was on her relentless quest to see me married off. He never came, since he was reputed to be a reclusive madman. Him being a vampire makes sense.”

  Justus cursed under his breath. “I was not supposed to tell you until we met the man.”

  “Why not?” Bethany shrugged. “I would know his crest the moment we arrived at his doorstep. I can feign ignorance until then. And while we’re on the subject, who is the Lord of Rochester? Much of what you told me implies that he is a noble as well.” She gasped as Justus looked at his boots in apparent evasion. “He is, isn’t he? How many vampires are there in the nobility?” she asked.

  “Twelve, I think,” Justus said. “Though it can be difficult to keep track, as some relinquish their titles and others reclaim theirs if their family line is in danger of dying off.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We should set off. The sooner we are in Cornwall, the sooner I can make you privy to my world.” When he pulled her to her feet, he frowned at the lingering shadows under her eyes. “I intend to Mark you as soon as we pass the county border.”

  Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, then closed it and nodded.

  “Are you frightened?” Worry speared his heart. What if she was still wary of being tied to him?

  “A little.” Bethany fidgeted with the sleeve of her dress. “What if your Marking me lands you in trouble? Or if things go unfavorably in Cornwall and the vampires there use me to get to you?”

  He hated himself for being relieved even as he was touched that her concern was for him. “If things go unfavorably in Cornwall, I’ll need to know how to find you, or at least if you are well. Deveril may imprison me and banish your memories.” Not to mention that Justus would also know if she was suffering from opium sickness on their way to Castle Deveril in time to abate her suffering. He never wanted to see her go through that again.

  “Why don’t you Mark me now?” she said softly.

  Justus hesitated. It could be a risk if he was taken by the Devon vampires, but then again, every cell of his being cried out to make her his. The savage instinct was alarming. He’d never Marked a mortal before. “All right,” he said and bit his finger.

  As Bethany drank his blood, Justus brought forth his power and recited the words. “I, Justus de Wynter, of… nowhere… Mark you, Bethany Mead as mine, and mine alone. With this Mark, I offer you my undying protection. Let all others, moral and immoral alike, who cross your path sense this Mark and know that to act against you is to act against me and thus invoke my wrath, as I will avenge what is mine.”

  Magic jolted through them like lightning. For a moment Justus could feel every thought and emotion swirling in her mind and he was breathless at her inner beauty. He bent to kiss her and was lost in her embrace.

  Bethany moaned and pressed herself against him, tugging at his falls of his trousers even as he pulled up her skirt. He lifted her and impaled her on his hard length. They made love fast and fervent, the Mark between them pulsing in time to the beating of their hearts. Bethany cried out and shuddered, her climax bringing his own like shattering a floodgate.

  “Heavens,” Bethany breathed, resting her head against his chest. “May I now consider myself Marked?”

  He chuckled and set her down. “Thoroughly. But now we’ve delayed too long. We must go now if we hope to reach Cornwall before dawn.”

  When they left the cave, a stroke of luck came Justus’s way as he spied a fisherman pulling his boat to shore. He was on him in a flash and returned to Bethany, well fed. Scooping her up, he ran faster than he had in several nights.

  After only a brief stop in a fishing village for a bowl of chowder and roasted potatoes for Bethany, they arrived at the Cornish border in a little over three hours.

  Justus took a deep breath as he surveyed the rolling green hills and jagged seaside cliffs. It was time for them to find out if damnation or salvation awaited them. “We must do what we can to not look hostile. T
o appear as supplicants.”

  Bethany reached up beneath her skirts and tore a strip of muslin from her petticoat.

  Justus’s brows rose. “What in the heavens are you about?”

  “A flag of surrender.” She picked up a stick from the ground and tied the white fabric to the tip.

  Admiration curved his lips in a smile. “That could work.”

  They crossed the border into Cornwall, Bethany holding her makeshift flag high. “I wish I could see this place in the daylight. It already looks magical.”

  “It looks about the same as the Devon coast.” Justus chuckled. Though, now that she mentioned it, something seemed different. Perhaps it was the hope of safety and home that made the rolling hills seem greener and the rocky storm-swept cliffs more enchanting.

  Clouds were gathering over the sea, nearing the shore. If they didn’t find shelter or weren’t apprehended first, being soaked by rain loomed as a discomforting possibility.

  “We should head west and stay on the coast. Castle Deveril is just outside of Falmouth,” he said, trying to hide the uncertainty of their welcome from his tone. “I do not know how far we’ll make it before one of his vampires takes us into custody.”

  As if summoned by his words, a vampire crested the hill before them. “Stop, right where you are.”

  Justus and Bethany froze, the white flag held before her, waving in the sea breeze. The vampire raised a brow at the scrap of white fabric and strolled down the hill to meet them. “A flag of surrender? Now that’s something I haven’t seen from a rogue.” His brown eyes narrowed on Bethany. “And a human companion. That does not bode well.”

  “I cannot Change her until I’m legitimate, so that she will not be a rogue.” Justus sensed other vampires approaching and sank to his knees before they had the idea to attack. “I surrender to you and ask to be taken to the Lord of Cornwall so I may petition him for citizenship.”

  The vampire nodded. “Ah. You wouldn’t be the first. I am Emrys Adair, Second in command to the Lord of Cornwall. And who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”